


jericho

by candybank



Series: concrete jungle (human zoo) [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (bap vc) only one shot, Corruption, Drug Use, M/M, One Shot, Prison AU, Violence, junhui centric...ish, mention of human trafficking, use of bible quotes, what else, yeah good stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 09:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candybank/pseuds/candybank
Summary: locked away from heaven, junhui claims his divine right to rule.(or: wen junhui is sentenced to life without parole for possession of drugs, robbery, extortion, bribery and affiliation with organized crime, and persecution is a dangerous weapon in the hands of a god.)





	jericho

**Author's Note:**

> watched too much oitnb and here we are
> 
> HI wow i am super excited for this fic bec its the first fic ever that ive actually outlined and planned and plotted and BETA'd ish...kind of, and if u know me u know i never plan any of my fics..ever..like if its not finished in 2 mins i drop it but ive been at this for some time and...im still here so..2019 is the year of growth ig..but pls dont expect anything from me same trashcan different day haha anyway, this is a fun stand alone one shot but also a prequel to the actual fic slash thinly veiled attempt at establishing the plot and the world lmao
> 
> HEY thanks to my friends the poor guys that i force to read and review my ugly ass wips ashi, titany, t, sofina ur all troopers and i lubv u to the end of the world. AND ofc to the bestest best beta ever???? like i cant i cannot believe.....cia ur amazin.
> 
> anyway onto the fic. sit back, relax, lower ur expectations, and enjoy the movie

_shout, for the lord has given you the city._

**joshua 6:16**

 

it starts with a joke.

hey, junhui—knock knock.

who’s there?

you’re under arrest.

i’m under arrest—says who?

wen junhui, you’re under arrest for the following charges: possession and sale of drugs, first-degree murder, robbery, kidnapping, extortion, bribery. you are also suspected to have affiliation with a human trafficking syndicate. anything you say may be used against you in court.

hey, wen junhui—knock knock.

who’s there?

life without parole.

i’m going to kill you and everyone you love, detectives.

wen junhui, you are now found guilty of the following charges: possession of drugs, robbery, extortion, bribery and affiliation with organised crime. you are now sentenced to life without parole.

 

***

 

it ends in handcuffs, orange jumpsuit and metal bars.

here’s where you sleep, says the prison guard in gray before taking the mattress off of junhui’s bed and breaking his nose against the metal frame. here’s where you eat, says the prison guard in gray before pushing junhui to the floor and shoving iron into his mouth.

by the time the days end, he’s limping back to his cell, eyes blown and blue, coughing blood into a toilet that won’t flush.

thirty days and twice as many beatings later, he’s dragged out of his cell and shoved into a closed room. he finds that he can breathe in this room; for the first time in a month, the air doesn’t smell like his blood and piss and shit swirled together in a bucket. his lawyer sits across the table, a stocky man in a monkey suit, gelled hair and paperwork, nervous sweat dripping down the side of his head.

junhui leans over the table and vomits all over his pressed shirt. then he sits back in his chair, legs crossed, and holds out his hand for a tissue to wipe his mouth with.

“wipe your sweat, you fucking pig.”

 

***

 

it doesn’t take long to establish order. junhui is a born leader, and with half of the prison’s staff and all market demand for smuggled contraband stuffed into his pockets, it’s not difficult to claim the authority to rule.

( _divine right_ , jeonghan will argue in a bid to make junhui smile.)

when he arrived a year ago, maximum security was a barren wasteland where good men went to become drug addicts and drug addicts went to die. now, there are laws to be followed and walls in place. symbols of power instilled into the minds of the people—cell one-seven-zero as the king’s throne, and inmate yoon jeonghan as the metaphorical crown and scepter.

junhui is a _god_ —as false as he is real.

like any god, he keeps the palm of his hand open wide enough that people may eat from it, but always near to himself so that no one can come close enough to bite. he never lies so that people trust him, never says too much so that they fear him.

in his eyes, the scriptures say: gods fall because they keep too many apostles too near. this way, he keeps only three, so that he’ll know easily who blew the trumpets if the walls fall down.

he’s scheming, cautious, and he’s enough of a marble statue that the people at his feet feel compelled to worship him.

but above all else, wen junhui knows himself well, knows where his strengths and weaknesses and loyalties lie. and now, with his territory reaching across three of four cell blocks, he knows he can’t spread himself too thin.

so, he _delegates_ to keep his house in order; yoon jisoo to oversee the crack and meth trade in cell block two, and choi seungcheol to control prescription drugs and other merchandise in cell block three.

to manage the exchange of cocaine and heroine, he keeps kim mingyu with him in cell block one. he says it’s because mingyu is sharp and smart and he won’t eat the product like seungcheol would or get lazy just because he can share the workload like jisoo does.

“take care here, kid. don’t get too greedy,” seungcheol passes the statement to mingyu with a sneer on his way out, pillow balanced on top of his head, dragging his mattress across the floor to the open gate.

“what does that mean?”

“… hey, listen—what’d the baby shrimp say to the mama shrimp when she asked him why he wouldn’t share any of his toys?”

“…”

“well, he killed her because he doesn’t answer to anyone. and when his shrimp friends asked too many questions, he killed them too. because, you know, he’s a little _shellfish_.”

 

***

 

“i thought seungcheol was your best guy,” mingyu taps powder-white out of a tiny plastic bag and onto the cover of a book. it’s the first day after seungcheol and jisoo were deployed to their own cell blocks, and the room feels a little empty without them. and he’s not sure why junhui decided to keep him, little fresh-meat-barely-one-year-in-prison-with-no-particularly-special-talents him, but he knows better than to ask.

he divides the tiny white mountain he’d made into messy little trenches with his i.d. card, and leans down with a finger pressed to his nose when—

“ _ow_ —” mingyu whines when junhui smacks the side of his head, “stop!—i could’ve dropped my cocaine!”

a laugh crosses junhui’s lips briefly. for all of a moment, he feels compelled to grab mingyu’s face and kiss him. it’s a passing moment, like a craving or a thirst, a quick hunger for a warm body, for the taste of dry teeth, for the chance to grind his bones into something soft, to provide for something desperate, like giving air to empty lungs.

the thought comes and goes, and junhui makes up for it by ruffling mingyu’s dirty blonde hair. “you’re snorting coke off of sun tzu,” he says, as if to say that it’s the most uncultured thing he has ever seen anyone do.

“huh?”

“art of war,” junhui clarifies, though he knows it’s hopeless, because he had cut mingyu off almost halfway to a high, and mingyu is looking at him like he’s wondering when junhui’s mouth is going to stop moving.

junhui nods towards the book with his head. it means he’s telling mingyu to go on, go on, carry on.

_for when the army is restless and distrustful, trouble is sure to come from the other feudal princes._

grateful, mingyu leans down and breathes blow into his brain. he pinches his nose and, forgetting to wipe his face, he pushes the book towards junhui, who only glances fondly towards his endearing carelessness before taking just as much poison into his body.

mutually assured destruction, a kind of running towards the same cloud.

“always clean up your mess,” junhui says to mingyu, as if a reminder, setting the book aside and leaning forward to wipe away the sugar around his nostrils.

by some kind of gravity, mingyu scoots closer towards him—the inches between them disappearing until their bent knees are knocking against each other, overlapping.

“sorry,” mingyu says, chest feeling light, small grin tugging at his lips. junhui cards his fingers through mingyu’s hair, and mingyu leans his head against junhui’s palm, eyes fluttering close.

there’s a period of rest like a pause in time, being caught up in each other and existing in the moment.

without warning, junhui fists mingyu’s hair in his hand. and junhui is so good at what he does that mingyu wears his fear of him like a second skin; he knows what junhui wants him to say, because he has made him say it a million times before. but still, he can’t help himself—the tug at his scalp pulls a groan out of his chest.

and junhui is just drugged up enough to find amusement in mingyu’s reaction. he leans forward, presses his lips against mingyu’s in a motion that feels more like waves crashing against rocks than mouths meeting in a kiss. teeth clacking, biting too hard, too wet, too sloppy.

“better—not to make—a mess at all,” mingyu talks in between kisses.

when junhui pulls away, a string of saliva connects their lips; like a lifeline, he gets rid of it with one quick swipe of his tongue. “that’s right,” he says, and pulls mingyu’s hair to one side to expose more of his neck.

there, across the warm expanse of mingyu’s skin, he presses wet open-mouthed kisses—under his jaw, down to his collarbones, as if golden stars stamped onto the back of a child’s hand for good behavior.

mingyu chuckles because he’s ticklish, and junhui can’t help smiling.

as if two magnets pressed against each other, as if the effortless push and pull of a pendulum, mingyu leans forward and junhui leans back until he’s laying on the bed and mingyu is straddling his hips.

they kiss like that, tongue-to-tonsil and teeth-to-bone. junhui’s fingers in mingyu’s hair, under his shirt, grabbing at mingyu’s skin like there is something to be had here besides nothing that will last. and mingyu, hips grinding, head spinning, lips swollen and pupils blown wide, with junhui swallowing every sound he breathes.

the world disappears around them, footsteps from outside the open door of junhui’s cell falling on deaf ears, prying eyes going undetected. it’s not until the sound of a chair scraping against the ground minutes, hours, days and weeks later do their senses return to them.

easily distracted, mingyu looks up to see jeonghan sitting on a chair, legs crossed, hands on his lap and eyes on them.

and junhui, eyes still glazed, he blinks away the spots in his vision and turns his head to look at jeonghan.

“hey, baby,” he greets with spit-slick lips.

jeonghan smiles thinly, “hi.”

junhui pats mingyu’s thighs, sits up and combs his fingers through his hair. “give me a kiss,” he tells jeonghan, and jeonghan moves from the chair to the edge of the bed.

he presses a chaste kiss to junhui’s lips. “i made you a snack. your favorite flavor,” he says, kissing junhui again.

“how thoughtful,” junhui praises him, and jeonghan seems to beam at this.

when junhui kisses jeonghan a third time, mingyu squirms uncomfortably. junhui must feel this, because then he turns to mingyu and says to jeonghan,

“why don’t you give mingyu a kiss too.”

but jeonghan shakes his head without even looking at mingyu, and junhui laughs as if any other answer would have been wrong.

 

***

 

his lawyers may have gotten him locked up in maximum security and all of his friends might have failed to get him out of jail for five consecutive fucking years, but if there is one thing that anyone has done right by junhui, it’s injecting lee seokmin into the veins of the prison.

lee seokmin in his gray prison guard uniform with that stupid, dangerous smile on his face and the loaded gun in his shoe.

he’s a virus, a sickness—spreading quick and merciless. he’s a schemist and an opportunist, and junhui says, “maybe if i’d found you before the bust, i wouldn’t be here at all.”

seokmin takes the compliment with a smile, just as he takes anything else. he says a joke over swapped hands and sticky fingers. a handshake, a kilogram of this, a few hundred milligrams of that. need anything else? more of these? less of those?

he’s volatile—atomic. he never seems to want anything besides what he gets. he never bribes, never threatens, never crosses lines he shouldn’t, so junhui gives him five percent more of everything.

“thanks, boss,” seokmin grins, eyes disappearing into tight half-crescents, as if he could have said it to anyone.

 

***

 

“is love a feeling?” mingyu asks.

“love’s a drug you sell for five toothbrushes and three ramen packets an ounce, gyu,” junhui corrects him, “ _anger_ ’s a feeling. that shit you can’t manufacture.”

mingyu’s not sure that he believes that, so he turns to look at him. “did i… make you angry?”

junhui doesn’t move for a moment—for half a beat, for half the swing of a metronome.

“never angry,” he finally replies with a small smile, sighing as he looks at mingyu, touches his face and presses a kiss to his forehead. he scoots impossibly closer and tangles their ankles together.

junhui leans down and crashes his lips against mingyu’s, the kiss impossibly dirty and disgusting, and yet still entirely gentle. “just don’t fuck any of the guards again, okay, gyu? including ours."

 

***

 

_when the trumpets sounded, the people shouted, and at the sound of the trumpet, when the people gave a loud shout, the wall collapsed; so every man charged straight in, and they took the city._

**joshua 6:20**

**Author's Note:**

> the end..FOR NOW..dundundun.... next fic in this series is getting posted in.....a bit. i was honestly just getting super antsy about not posting anything for a while and i missed ao3 sm so.....i posted this. ANYWAY next fic's gna be chaptered and uhhhhhh mingyu centric...ish and allthat good stuff aiyaya. 
> 
> whale i hope u enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it<333 this isnt meant to be all realistic or anything so..honestly it was supposed to be a one shot prison au pwp.....so anyway pls dont @ me..... but if ur gna do it u can find me here [twt](https://twitter.com/8xings)/[cc](https://curiouscat.me/relift) x
> 
> ...funfax rejected bible quote for this fic: (...) at the cost of his firstborn son he will lay its foundations; at the cost of his youngest he will set up its gates. (joshua 6:26)


End file.
